This is the Forbes I know so well.
Fear controlling me, and unsure what else to do, I obediently climb off the bed and pick the clothes up to change in the bathroom.
“Where the fuck are you going?” he snaps.
“To change,” I answer in a small voice.
“Change here.” He moves across the room toward me, predatory in his step.
My heart stops. I hold still to the spot, fear still controlling me like a sickness.
Running his finger down my bare arm, he leans close to my mouth. “I’ve missed you, baby … I want to see you.”
His touch ignites painful memories of all the times he hit me, kicked me, punched me … violated me. His hand feels like a disease of the worst kind. A sick, awful disease I want off me, and away from. Now.
My heart kickstarts, and begins pumping hard in my chest.
I won’t leave here with him.
I can’t.
Holding the clothes to my chest, I lift my chin. “I’m not going back to Boston with you.”
There’s no hesitation. He grabs me by the throat. Pushing me down onto the bed. “You will do as I fuckin’ tell you! You will get dressed. Then you will leave this hospital, and get on a plane home with me.”
“No,” I croak out.
His hand grabs at my gown, lifting it. He grabs the fabric of my panties and tears them off my body. His knee comes between my thighs. I press my legs together, trying to keep him out, but he’s too strong, and he pries them apart.
With his knee pressed painfully up against the most intimate part of me, he leans into my face. “Do I need to teach you another lesson, Mia?”
Fear and memories start to take hold.
And I stop them as soon as they start. I will not be controlled.
Not by him.
Not by anyone.
Ever again.
I hate Forbes more in this moment than I ever have. And it gives me strength. Strength I need.
Slowly, I shake my head.
He smiles, a winners smile. “Good girl.” Then he pulls my gown aside, revealing my naked breast. “So fucking beautiful,” he says, pressing his hand to my chest, moving his disgusting fingers over my nipple. He squeezes.
I close my eyes on the pain. Tears press from the corners of my eyes.
Jordan. It’s a silent scream in my mind. A plea for him to come back. To make right on his promise when he said that he would never let anyone hurt me, ever again.
But Jordan’s not coming because I sent him away.
This is for me to do. And I can do it.
Slowly, I lift my hand to Forbes’ face. His eyes fire with triumph, and I know I have him.
Tilting my chin, I offer my mouth to him.
His eyes flare. “Tell me you want me, Mia. Say, ‘Fuck me, Forbes. Please.’ I want to hear you beg, baby.”
I swallow down all the words I want to say, and do as he says, “Fuck me, Forbes. Please,” I say in a steady voice.
“There’s my, girl.” He smirks, lowering his face to mine.
The instant his lips touch mine, I moan, knowing it will turn him on to deepen the kiss. And that’s the moment when I go back to the tactic I used the last time, and bite down on his lower lip. But this time, I bite like I mean it.
His blood floods my mouth, along with his yell of pain.
“You fuckin’ bitch!” He hits me hard.
Pain explodes in my head. His grip on my throat tightens. Breathing quickly gets hard.
I need to get out of this, but I can’t move my body, so my hands slap him, scratching, pushing, just trying anything I can to get him off me, but he’s unmoving.
It’s when he’s rearing back to hit me again, fist clenched, that I turn my head away.
And that’s when I see my escape, on the table by the bed.
Without another thought, I grab the glass water jug and using all the strength I have, I hit him with it.
I make contact with the side of his head. I feel and hear the dull thud of the glass as it strikes his skull.
Water spills out, soaking my face and hair.
Forbes looks stunned. Like he can’t believe I really just hit him with it.
He wobbles, but he’s still upright, and I need him down.
So I pull back and hit him again. Harder this time. And that’s when he goes down, falling right on top of me.
The jug drops from my hand and hits the floor with a loud shatter.
I’m panicking, coughing up his blood mixed in with my own, just needing him off me. Terrified that he’s going to wake up and then it’s game over for me.
With unknown strength, I manage to struggle out from underneath him. Sliding off the bed, my eyes trained on his unmoving body, my bare feet hit the floor.
Glass shards cut straight through the soles of my feet, I bite my lip on the cry of pain I want to make.
Not taking my eyes off Forbes, I grab the emergency buzzer by the bed, pressing it multiple times. Then as quietly as I can, I move across the floor, stifling my urges to cry out as the glass continues to cut mercilessly, into my feet.